


yes, sir

by bukkunmoonsin (bukkunkun)



Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018), Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Creampie, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Honeymoon, M/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Oral Sex, Orders, Romance, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Topping from the Bottom, uhhh did i use that tag right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 10:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16345226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunmoonsin
Summary: written for twitter user@mdcmlondon's birthday.“You do put up a fight, sir.”“Not as much when it comes to you, Mister Aguinaldo.”Miong and Pole go on their long-awaited honeymoon.





	yes, sir

**Author's Note:**

> > watch me nyoom mabinaldo for diana next
>> 
>> — spookkun (@trickscd) [19 October 2018](https://twitter.com/trickscd/status/1053189743045894144?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)
> 
> you thought i wouldn't make it? You Fool.
> 
> Happy birthday to my dear bb [Diana](https://twitter.com/mdcmlondon)!!! I hope you enjoy this because this is perfectly tailored to your taste. ;^)
> 
> Written in celebration din of the [Aguinaldo-Mabini nuptials](https://twitter.com/UnangPresidente/status/1052571804638752769) on Twitterserye. Congrats to my kumares!

They’d gotten married, and everything was wonderful.

Iceland was beautiful, this time of the year. The weather was cold all year around, but right now it wasn’t as cold as the locals said it could get.

The northern lights were on their month-long agenda frequently, and he was glad their generous benefactor—that lavish-living Ilustrada Haciendera who hosted their reception—had afforded them a beautiful five-star hotel to stay in for the time being.

Pole had been hesitant on taking advantage of the Lady’s good graces, but Miong took it all in stride, citing their recent marriage for Pole to simply relax, and enjoy the pleasures that month over the moon brought them.

The northern lights waited for them, he’d said, and for now, their jetlagged selves needed rest.

Arrival at Iceland was facilitated by the Lady’s helping hands, as well, and it took them under an hour to get settled into their suite, shoes off and cuddled together in bed for a well-deserved sleep.

When Miong woke up, several hours later with his body adjusted to the change in time zones, he realised his husband— _husband, his husband!—_ was sitting up in bed, the dim glow of the lampshade on the bedside table his only source of light.

He was about to ask him what he was doing, when he heard the shuffling of papers, and—

“ _Tangina,_ Pole, did you bring work with you?”

The paralytic laughed softly, and reached above his head to turn the rest of the lights on in their room from the switch above the headboard.

“Yes, I told Diana, didn’t I?” He chuckled, as warm golden light flooded the room, and Miong frowned at him to see a whole folder on his lap, some papers already dogeared—he’d finished them already, in the time Miong had been asleep.

“How did you even get these, mahal?” Miong groaned, sitting up properly to look down at the papers Pole was reading. “They were in our bags.”

“I went and got them.” Pole replied simply, and Miong gaped at him. The paralytic laughed, shaking his head as he kissed him on the cheek. “Mahal, I _can_ carry my own weight, you know.”

Miong looked down at the floor, and only then did he realise that there was a trail of sorts of sheets left behind on the carpeted floor. His eyes widened, and he turned back to his blushing groom.

“Sorry, I was really bored.” He said, and Miong shook his head exasperatedly.

“Give those to me.” He said sternly, taking the papers from Pole with a gentle, but firm hand, tugging them out of his hands by the top to set them down on his side’s bedside table with a huff.

“Miong,” Pole began, but Miong leaned forward to kiss him, slowly but deeply, and he swallowed Pole’s content sigh with a smile as he gently pulled Pole down to lie underneath him. “Hmm. Affectionate.” The lawyer smiled wanly when Miong pulled away, and the man smiled down at him, cheeks dimpling in that oh-so-charming way that always, always made Pole’s heart flutter.

“Please, for me?” He asked, voice husky and oh so warm with fondness and _love,_ “Put work down, mahal.”

“I’m a man who can multitask, Miong.” Pole chuckled, but he cupped his husband’s face in his hand. “And I do not like sitting around not working on anything.”

“Perhaps we can reach a compromise, Mister Mabini?” Miong chuckled, “Command me, your servant.”

At that, Pole burst out laughing, hiding his stuttering laughter behind his hand, and Miong could only smile fondly at him as he did so, gently caressing Pole’s cheek with the back of his fingers as he calmed down from his laughter, dissolving into a contented, happy sigh.

“Perhaps, bad boy, I shall have to put all my concentration on a piece of work like you.”

“You do put up a fight, sir.” Miong chuckled, but he turned his face to kiss Pole’s palm.

“Not as much when it comes to you, Mister Aguinaldo.” Pole replied smoothly, shivering pleasantly as his husband began to kiss down from his palm to his wrist. Suddenly, he laughed softly, and Miong cocked his head at him.

“It’s the dimples.”

Miong blinked at him for a moment, before dissolving into laughter too, leaning forward to press their foreheads together.

“Oh, I love you.” He sighed, and Pole chuckled fondly, rubbing their noses together.

“I love you too, Miong.”

They let the tender moment pass between them with golden, peaceful silence, but eventually, Pole squeezed Miong’s side, and the younger man pulled away to look down at him.

“Miong.”

“Pole.”

“I will only allow you to touch me if I say so, is that clear?”

Miong shifted, and he blinked when he felt something poking his leg. He grinned impishly down at Pole, and bowed his head.

“Crystal.”

“Sit back, and hold my legs wide open. I want you to see _everything._ ”

Miong bit back a hiss as he did as he was told, shuffling to the bottom of the thousand thread count sheet bed as he held Pole’s legs open, stroking them tenderly to get that shiver running up his husband’s spine as he moved.

It was by some stretch of a miracle that he’d managed to convince Pole to sleep naked when they arrived, but in some way Miong regretted it—the nakedness underneath all those sheets would have probably been unkind to Pole on his journey to their bags to get his documents. Still, there was no time like the present, because now, Pole was conveniently— _beautifully_ —naked, his lovely delicate skin bared for Miong to ogle.

His skin was so beautiful—unmarked, as of late, perfect and pure like a bride ready and ripe for her husband to take. He was pale, an indicator of how much time he spent indoors with his President, working on how to run the country, untouched by the sunlight that seemed to radiate so _beautifully_ of him when it did kiss his skin. Golden, kind and adoring, like psalms rolling off dewdrop cherubim lips.

His cock was half-hard, quirked up in interest and pinking as blood rushed to it, and beneath that, his lovely, dusky little entrance fluttered slightly, anticipating the intrusion that awaited him.

“Miong, the lubricant.”

“Yes, sir.”

Pole’s shiver was _delightful,_ pleasure running down his spine at the roughness and the lust in Miong’s voice, but the man tore his gaze away from his beautiful, perfect husband to root around their things.

He knew the bottle they brought with them was on the side of small—a little _something-something_ one of their daughters, Myles, had pressed into his hand before they left (that earned her a stern look from her fathers and a conspiratorial wink from Miong). Miong made a mental note later to pick up some more after he tired Pole out, but for now, this was enough for at least two rounds.

“Miong, sit.”

Miong turned to look at Pole, who was smirking at him from the bed, and he swallowed thickly.

Oh, this new side of him—he was really into it, wasn’t he?

His own cock, now hard and leaking, certainly seemed to agree.

“Where, sir?”

“Back at your spot, boy.”

Now it was Miong’s turn to shiver. The sharpness in Pole’s voice was something he usually reserved for scathing remarks pointed at Paterno or Buencamino, but right now it was pointed at him. The bite of that bladed quirk, the snap of his words against his skin like a whip—oh, now he understood why he felt lonely when Pole scolded dissenters.

It wasn’t a bad feeling, being put under that level of scrutiny.

Obediently he made his way to his previous perch at the foot of the bed, handing Pole the bottle of lubricant with an awkward grace of a stumbling virgin, despite them having done this countless times before.

Pole smirked at that, and Miong shivered as he held his legs open again.

“Good boy. Sit, sit.”

Oh, this was an odd turn-on, and Miong couldn’t help but grin widely as he obeyed, crossing his legs comfortably as his cock stood upright, now as invested as he was in the next turn of events.

Maybe Pole would even let him indulge. If he behaved.

“For how long, sir?”

Pole’s smirk widened slightly into a fondly amused smile, and he shook his head before turning whip-sharp again.

“For as long as I want—and no moving. Just sit.” He ordered with the grace of a triumphant warlord, and Miong shivered. “Right there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“ _Watch._ ”

There was just _something_ about the way Pole said that, and it made something _dangerous_ tingle at the small of Miong’s back. He swallowed nervously, and nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.”

Pole lathered lubricant on his fingers generously—damn, now it wasn’t enough for two rounds, but oh well—and reached down to wrap them around his own weeping cock. Miong let out a hiss at the sight—those beautiful, delicate fingers, brittle and pure like porcelain and with a touch like a feather’s. Unblemished, and perfect, with little calluses from writing and other toils of the mind, smooth like rain over Miong’s own wartorn, scarred skin.

They contrasted beautifully against his cock, light pink against angry pink, and it made Miong’s cock twitch in interest as Pole began to jerk himself off, pretty little lips worried between his teeth in a vain attempt to hold back the whimpers that inevitably came with the torrent of pleasure that followed with such a lewd act.

Let it be said that Miong could never hold himself back too long, but not to overshadow the fact that his other half, Pole, could never hold himself back either.

Soon Pole was moaning, gasping as he thrust into his own hand, and all Miong could do was watch helplessly, his own dick weeping and twitching in desperate interest as he watched his husband jack himself off. The usual calm collected man melted away into a wanton, mewling little whore under his fingers, and Miong growled, biting back his own surge of pleasure as Pole lost himself to desire, desperate— _vulnerable._

Pole would never let anyone see him like this—no one, except the other half of his life.

“Pole,” Miong growled, “Pole, please…”

“Down, boy.” Pole managed, and _of course_ he could keep himself thinking straight despite all this. “I haven’t even started opening myself up.”

Miong grit his teeth. “ _Please,_ sir.”

“Patience is a virtue, Miong.” Pole smirked, and reached down with his slick hand to press a finger inside himself, right in clear view of Miong. The younger man let out a strangled sound as he watched one, two, three fingers slide into that sweet little hole like nothing, and when he managed to tear his eyes away from Pole’s entrance, he couldn’t look away from that _beautiful_ wince he was making. His blush high on his cheeks, the sweat on his brow, the crease of concentration, of desperation and desire _under control,_ and Pole hadn’t looked more beautiful tonight than right then and there.

Oh, how blessed he was, to have such an angel to call his own.

Pole threw his head back when he crooked his fingers inside himself, his torso twitching despite the limpness of his legs on Miong’s shoulders, and the younger man let out a growl.

“Pole, _please,_ ”

“Your mouth, on me, n-now.”

Miong didn’t have to be told twice. He didn’t even hesitate, as he bent down to take Pole’s rear in his hands to lift his hips slightly, pulling them apart to help Pole thrust his fingers deeper inside himself as he swallowed his cock in one fell swoop.

“M- _Miong!_ ” And finally, the master beneath him slips into the servant who loved his king.

Miong sucked him off with fervour as Pole fingered himself open, relishing the taste of his husband on his tongue and the sweet sound of his voice echoing through the room.

His own erection, angry hot and neglected, wept on, twitching and desperate to enter Pole again, but he ignored it.

He ignored the screams and the licks of the flame that burned inside him. The conqueror, demanding release, power, demanding he simply mount Pole and take, take, _take—_

But no. That was for another night. Another number checked off the list.

Tonight, Pole was his master, and Miong was his indentured, enamoured servant.

“Miong—Miong, I—” he could feel Pole’s orgasm building in himself, and he pulled off him when Pole’s other hand balled in his hair, pulling his head up from Pole’s cock. Miong looked up at him with nothing but utmost devotion in his eyes, and Pole felt something thick lodge itself oh so comfortably in his throat.

Love, he thought. It was love.

“Take me.” Pole panted, “Take me as hard, as brutally as you can.”

Miong’s eyes widened, as he slinked up the length of Pole’s body, bearing his bulkier weight down on his lithe form to press his own cock against Pole’s soaking wet one, shimmering with spit and slick and precum. Pole’s eyes widened at it, and for a moment, the master gave away to the Sublime Paralytic Miong had fallen in love with.

“It’s… _big._ ”

Not that it was Pole’s first time seeing it, no, but there were times where he caught himself in the middle of amazement at Miong’s size.

It was nothing short of a confidence boost, and it only jerked in interest at Pole’s heated stare at it.

“It’s yours to feel, mahal.” Miong murmured, kissing Pole’s temple gently. “Command me.”

Pole shivered, and slid his hands up Miong’s arms, smoothing over goosebumping skin until they tangled in his hair, pulling him down to kiss him deeply, oh so deeply, it would have made his toes curl if he could.

“Pillage me, dear conqueror.” He murmured against Miong’s lips. “Make me yours as you are mine.”

Well, _that_ was a beautiful one. He hoped Pole remembered it after this.

“Alright then.”

Not as beautiful, but hey, he knew Pole would cut him the slack. They were both horny beyond imagination at this point, and technically this _was_ their wedding night. Anything goes, as they say.

He pulled away from Pole to look down at their hips, taking a deep breath as he pressed the head of his cock to Pole’s entrance.

“Pole—”

“I said _take me,_ boy.” Pole snapped suddenly, and Miong’s eyes widened. “ _Now._ ”

Oh, there was no denying a master like that.

With a grunt, Miong slide right inside him to the hilt in one smooth push, and Pole’s eyes widened, his spine going ramrod straight as a gasp tore from his throat, crashing into a crescendo of a _scream._

“ _Miong!_ ”

There was no stopping now, no waiting, no slow movement. Pole wanted it rough, he wanted it _now,_ and Miong only ever served to please.

Immediately he pulled himself out until only his head was inside, and thrust inside again with as much gusto as he had slid inside. It pulled a gasp from Pole’s pretty, pretty lips that Miong grew drunk on quickly, and soon he was pistoning in and out of his husband, hips a steady, unforgiving andante punctuated with Pole’s gasps and broken diminutives of Miong’s name, scattering and chipping away like marbles on glass.

They tumbled and rolled off his tongue, gasps breaking syllables into little abortive ‘ _ah-ah-ah_ ’s that sounded like a filibuster’s psalm of praise to an idol, and it was so intoxicating, to hear that cool, crisp voice melt into a mess of scattering little nonsense sounds.

Pleasure built up like how civilizations sprawled over conquered land—gradual, steady, until it was ready to burst, and fall. Miong could feel his orgasm steadily approaching, and he knew Pole was riding on the edge of it, teetering drunkenly on the feel, the high of lust, waiting for Miong to tumble into him and push them right off.

“Pole—Pole, I’m—I’m—”

“Inside, please,” Pole gasped, reaching up for him blindly, and Miong slotted himself between Pole’s hands, leaning forward to kiss him as he fucked into him in a rhythm that steady grew into a stuttering staccato of disarray. “M-Miong, f-fill me up, pl-please, do it—”

“ _Pole._ ” Miong muffled his groan with another kiss as he buried himself deep inside Pole to empty his load out inside him.

The feel of Miong’s warmth filling him sent Pole over the edge after his husband, and he came in white ribbons between their stomachs, sticky and hot as Miong collapsed on top of him, panting heavily.

The both of them rode the high of their orgasms, smiling against each other’s skin as the waves of pleasure slowly abated, and when Miong could move again, he pulled himself up and off his husband with a small wince.

Pole flinched slightly, though only his shoulders truly moved as Miong lifted and spread his legs to inspect him.

His eyes widened slightly at the sight of his cum leaking out of Pole’s hole, and with a small hum, he thumbed it a little more open, earning him a small whine of protest from Pole, overstimulated and exhausted.

“I’m sorry, mahal,” Miong chuckled, “I can’t help but want to see more of it.”

Pole looked up at him flatly, but he soon smiled, an impish little grin that had pleasure churning in Miong’s gut at the sight of it.

“One down,” he said, and Miong suddenly remembered a question he was asked some time ago—about [a list, he’d said, of things he’d wanted to do with his husband](https://twitter.com/UnangPresidente/status/1050298517548388352). “Turn me over, Miong.”

“P-Pole, you can’t be—”

“ _Now,_ Miong.”

He shut himself up, nodding ineffectively as he turned his husband over, only to openly ogle the sight of his ass in the air, his cum truly leaking out of him this time, more easily for him to see.

“Why don’t you clean me up while you recover, Miong,” he purred, and Miong swallowed thickly. “And we can cross a few more things off that little list you mentioned, hmm?”

“Y-yes, sir.” Miong couldn’t help but grin, and Pole finally found it in himself to laugh sheepishly.

“You, I think, really are a much more delightful distraction than work, I will admit.” He said, and Miong laughed fondly, leaning forward to kiss his temple.

“I try.” He said, and slipped his thumb inside Pole’s still-gaping hole, earning him a gasp from his husband.

“Now, the interlude to round two.”

**Author's Note:**

> gago ang bilis ko talaga magsulat y e e t
> 
> did you know i lifted several choice lines from pole and miong's flirting on twitter to put here? see if you can spot 'em. 
> 
> also, shout out to my two kumares Diana and Myles for being here. love you both, mga enabler kayo HAHAHAH
> 
> that rich benefactor is me. [punta kayo sa reception](https://twitter.com/trickscd/status/1052711451968720896), guys! October 20, 2018 (Friday), around dinnertime.


End file.
